


deadcrush

by hallownest



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallownest/pseuds/hallownest
Summary: He still wanted to know more about Akechi -- Akechi’s previous texts concerning the then unknown culprit’s motive tipped him plenty off -- but there was a time and place for that once everything was settled, and now and here were neither.He could tell himself that a phantom thief takes what they want when they want it -- but what is it he wants, anyway? What reason did he have to tiptoe on the edge of disaster, other than the vague explanation of merely wanting to?





	deadcrush

**Author's Note:**

> https://twitter.com/nadireon

_ It’s risky. _

  
  


That’s what runs through Akira’s brain when he invites Akechi upstairs, a warm smile on his face in spite of all the sirens in his head setting off. It wouldn’t be long before they infiltrated Sae’s palace; if he hung around Akechi too long, he ran the risk of slipping something, of him once again facing a death he only avoided thanks to Futaba’s snooping.

He still wanted to know more about Akechi -- Akechi’s previous texts concerning the then unknown culprit’s motive tipped him plenty off -- but there was a time and place for that once everything was settled, and  _ now _ and  _ here _ were neither.

He could tell himself that a phantom thief takes what they want when they want it -- but what is it he wants, anyway? What reason did he have to tiptoe on the edge of disaster, other than the vague explanation of merely wanting to?

Usually Kurusu was cunning, logical, but now he’s acting on emotion, one he can’t even truly explain at that, alone.

The faults of his actions are shoved to the back of his mind; when they walk up the stairs, Akechi is sitting at the foot of his bed, watching expectantly. 

“Is there any particular reason you wanted me here, Kurusu-kun? Or did you just want my company?”

The last bit of his sentence sounds mocking, taunting, at least in Akira’s ears. A disproportionate anger washes over him, yet he manages, perhaps poorly, to put it aside and formulate a response. They look at one another, a thick awkwardness -- tension? -- filling the room until Akira coughs nervously.

“I just .. wanted to talk to you. So I guess so,” the words all but stumble out. He didn’t have any real reason, and the one he did summon felt flimsy, or it would to Akechi, anyways; he was sure Akechi thought Akira’s view of him was little more than that he was untrustworthy. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

It was a shot in the dark to try and break Akechi’s walls down, but they both knew the answer was negating. For now, anyways. For now.

Akechi’s initial expression, lasting for less than half a second, affirms his thoughts, surprised but cold and unreceptive. But it’s quick to go back to it’s usual polite aloofness, of course. It always did. To the trained eye, the aggression brimming underneath Akechi’s mask wasn’t too hard to find; it wasn’t sadism, but there was a definite bitterness, a resentment for something or someone. Unfortunately, he didn’t think himself quite enough of a genius to find out just what was haunting him with how little he knew of Akechi. 

“We are,” Akechi quietly agrees, and his acting is so well-executed Akira would have bought it if not for the light he knew Akechi in. “I’m glad you enjoy spending time with me.”

But, maybe the last statement is true. Or, at the very least, it could be in time, if he made the effort. 

“You’re a good person.” Akira answers simply. He’s unsure if that’s true, or not -- he doesn’t think Akechi is downright evil, anyway -- but he thinks there's something redeeming to be dragged out. His perspective of Akechi had, understandably, been tarnished once he realized Akechi wanted to kill him, yet not  _ entirely  _ destroyed.

But maybe his optimism was based on Akechi's physical appeal rather than anything grounded in reality.

That line of thought is ended when Akechi coughs, apparently caught off-guard by the compliment. He brushes a strand of hair from his face and looks away, flushing slightly, disbelief written across his face.

It’s odd, seeing how quickly his reactions turned once he complimented him, even Akechi didn’t seem to buy into them. He wants to see more of that, see the less polished aspects of Akechi, but wholesale praise wasn’t his forte, and it ooze of insincerity  -- though something told him that wasn’t the only way.

His mind ticks, for a few seconds, and even though it screams at him to back away, Akechi’s bashfulness is far too inviting.

“Akechi?” he nearly coos. The sweetness of his voice at least manages to pull Akechi’s attention, though he still looks unsure of himself or how he should proceed.

“Ah -- yes, Kurusu-kun? I’m sorry, I spaced out. I’m afraid one-on-one conversations aren’t my strong point.”

That was an interesting admittance, and though the truth of anything Akechi said was up in the air, he did buy into this. It made sense, given what he knew about Akechi, how he hadn’t seen him accompanied by anyone other than Sae until he started talking with Akira and the others.

“It’s alright,” Kurusu assures him. “You don’t need to talk to have a good presence.”

Akechi’s brow raises, watching him skeptically. “Are you sure about that?” he asks, voice airy,  _ taunting. _

_ It’s a challenge, _ something deep within him -- Arsene? -- snarls.  _ Will you rise to it? _

He thinks Arsene is overreacting. But there’s something deeper within Akechi’s gaze, and his own want, and Arsene’s influence, goad him into inching closer.

“I think I am,” Akira hums, his self-assured tone betraying the pounding of his heart. “But are  _ you _ ?”

“We can test that theory if you’re so inclined.” Akechi hisses. 

That’s all it takes for Akira.

The coldness of his tone is enough to edge him into smashing his lips against Akechi’s, anger fueling him to wipe the sneer off the other boy’s face.

A strangled noise comes from Akechi, pink-faced as Akira kisses him roughly, sloppily, putting his hand at the base of Akechi's spine to tease the possibility of him grabbing his ass.

It all happens incredibly fast, and even Akira, the initiator, feels a little dazed by the speed of it. But Akechi seems to revel in it, pulling back to nip Akira’s lip and wrapping his arms around Akira’s waist to pull him closer.

It’s enough of an invitation for Akira to move his hand further down, squeezing Akechi’s perfect ass. He gasps, already looking plenty a mess with his red face and half-lidded eyes. 

“Goro,” he whispers, enjoying Akechi’s full-body shudder at the use of his first name. “You’ve been awfully testy, haven’t you? I think I ought to teach you a lesson.”

Akira’s grin is impish, and Akechi’s wide eyes only sharpen his smirk like a knife.

“For someone so eager to put me in my place, you’re incredibly slow.” Akechi hisses; a feeling of indignation burns low in his stomach, and he doesn’t take long at all after that, stripping Akechi of his shirt and stopping just short of ripping it entirely.

He takes a moment to admire Akechi’s body, but not at all long enough for Akechi to catch his breath. Akira looms over him, expression smothered dark.

“I always knew you would be the type to like this sort of thing,” Akira begins, almost conversationally. “To be pinned down, taken; that’s just what you want, isn’t it? For someone to show you your place.”

Akechi doesn’t grant him an answer, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need one. Akira lowers himself, tongue starting at Akechi’s collarbone and continuing down until it runs over a nipple. Akechi gasps, going to put a hand in Akira’s hair. Akira quickly pulls back, revelling in Akechi’s whine as he snatches his wrist. 

“I didn’t tell you that you could touch me, did I?”

“I…” Akechi huffs, at a loss for words.

Akira glances at Akechi’s tie, thrown on the nightstand, when an idea hits him. He smiles, sniggering darkly.

“I didn’t want to do this, you know,” A lie. “but if you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” He snatches the tie from the nightstand. “I’ll just have to make sure you do through other means.”

He searches Akechi’s face for any resistance or reluctance, but when he doesn’t find it, the edges of his smile grow more wicked. 

Akira pulls him up by his shoulders, hastily binding his wrists before shoving him back down. He doesn’t take the time to admire his handiwork, though, instead kissing him roughly, shoving his tongue into Akechi’s mouth. His leg brushes against Akechi’s hard cock, straining through his slacks, and though the contact had been brief, it was enough for Akechi to let out a high-pitched whine.

“Huh,” Akira remarks, moving his mouth away. Akechi stares in frustration, only edging Akira on. “Do you want something?” Akira remarks idly, like his own cock isn’t painfully hard. “Why don’t you tell me what it is, Goro? Maybe you’ll get what you want, if you play nice.”

“Are you really that oblivious?” Akechi retorts, voice harsh in spite of just how debauched he is.

“That’s no way to talk to me,” Akira scowls, practically yanking Akechi’s pants off with no grace. He keeps his boxers on, though, skimming his fingers over the tip of his cock and enjoying the gasp he responds with. “I suppose I’ll have to get it out of you by other means.”

Akira reaches a hand in the first drawer of his nightstand, eyes glimmering with mischief as Akechi watches him in a mixture of suspicion and interest.

When he brings his hand back to to the other’s line of vision, Akechi tilts his head until Akira presses his thumb on what’s in his hand and a sharp  _ click _ follows, the head of a knife popping out. 

His reasons for keeping a pocket knife in his room were, for once, as innocent as anyone else’s; purely out of utility, but this -- this is certainly a new use that he should keep in mind, especially if the throb of Akechi’s cock against his leg is anything to go buy. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” Akira coos, tracing Akechi’s jawline with his free hand. “You really have been misbehaving, after all. I thought this might motivate you.”

Finally, finally, he pulls down Akechi’s boxers, revelling in the look on Akechi’s face; sheer mortification and arousal. He barely touches Akechi’s cock, but it sends his hips jerking anyway. Akira laughs.

“Not yet,” Akira teases. “You still haven’t repented, remember? Only then can you get your reward. You need to be a good boy for me.”

Akechi scoffs. “Convince me.”

“Oh,” Akira leans in, smile sharp. “I think I can.”

He doesn’t wait before sinking his teeth into Akechi’s shoulder.

Akechi cries out, unable to hide the pleasure that came with the sharp, sudden pain of Akira’s mouth. He bucks his hips again, but his cock barely brushes against Akira’s leg.

“Akira,” he gasps. “Akira, please,  _ please _ .”

Akira eventually let go, admiring the red that bloomed across Akechi’s shoulder and collarbone. He was finally letting go, but not quite. It wasn’t enough. He really, really wanted to see Akechi break.

And so, he lifts his knife, letting it hover inches away from Akechi’s neck.

“You know I like you too much to hurt you,” Akira murmurs, a hint of tenderness seeping into his tone. “And I’d hate to mar that pretty throat of yours, Goro. But I won’t give you what you want until you start playing nice.”

He stares at Akechi, waiting, in case this is too much for him.

But Akechi only watches him, dazed, almost in awe, before finally realizing the silent question and nodding in approval. It was endearing, and it encourages Akira to finally take Akechi’s cock fully in his hand.

“ _ Akira _ !”

“Just being bound up really got you going, didn’t it? I knew you’d like it, but … I didn’t know you’d like it  _ this _ much. You’re so hard.” 

He gingerly skims the flat of the knife against the side of Akechi's neck, continuing to pump him in his hand until his pace slows. Akechi glares, but it’s weak.

“Come on,” Akira purrs, folding the knife and dropping it to the nightstand. “Don't you want it, Goro? I know you do. Tell me. Tell me what you want. I’ll make sure you cum harder than you ever have in your life, I promise.” 

He knows Goro is close to snapping. Just a little more.

“You want me to fuck you, don't you? I bet you're so tight, I bet you'll feel so good when I cum in your ass. I --"

“Okay, okay,  _ yes, _ ” Akechi relents, sinking into the mattress. “Fuck me, please, please, I want your cock inside me, okay? Just …” Akechi trails off, embarrassed and painfully aroused.

Akira’s cock throbs.

“I’ve got you, okay? I know what you need.” Akira assures him, moving his hand again and snatching lube from somewhere Akechi can’t quite identify in his haze. 

It doesn’t take long for Akira to lube his fingers, circling Akechi’s entrance before gently pushing a finger inside.

“O-oh.” Akechi softly exhales.

It’s only now that Akira’s arousal feels urgent, and his body begs him to remove his clothing. But he can’t, not right now, not when that would mean moving his hand away when Akechi is tightened so nicely around his finger.

“You feel so hot inside,” Akira whispers, and Akechi is fucking himself so well on his hand he doesn’t even wince when Akira adds another. “You’ll feel even better around my cock.”

“Then hurry up,” Akechi huffs with urgency. “ _ Please _ .”

“Just a little more.” Akira promises, managing a third finger once Akechi has been opened up a little, then curling his fingers upward and being rewarded with the nicest cry.

“A-Akira,” he begins shakily. “I’ll cum if you do that again.”

 

“Oh -- right,” Akira stammers, forgetting himself. He, very reluctantly, moves his hand out of Akechi and kicks his clothes and boxers off hastily, tugging his shirt off afterward. “Give me a second.”

He slicks the lube over his cock, and even though his touch is slight, he can’t help but bite his lip, especially with Akechi in front of him, exposed and bound like he was.

Then, he sees Akechi staring at him, and his flush goes ten shades darker, his bravado dimmed by the heat of it all.

“Alright,” he clambers back over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Tell me if it hurts?”

Akechi nods, and with that, Akira presses inside -- and it feels even better than he thought it might.

“Fuck, fuck,  _ Goro _ ,” Akira sighs. “You feel so good. You’re taking me so nicely.”

“Akira,” Akechi laughs breathlessly, unable to wrap his arms around Akira’s back thanks to his bound hands. “Did you always want to fuck me?”

Akira gives him a look, but thinks it better not to reply, instead thrusting back into Akechi’s ass, angling his hips so --

Akechi cries out, and he tightens so well around Akira’s dick, it takes restraint not to cum then and there. He doesn’t want that to cum before Akechi; it really hadn’t taken that much for Akira to obey Akechi once he started telling him how he wanted to be fucked hard, so he’d at least like this triumph.

“A-Akira, that spot, again.” Akechi begs, and Akira eagerly obliges, too far gone to want anything other than Akechi crying his name. Akechi’s too hot, too warm, too good, and Akira can hardly believe how lucky is to be inside him like this. 

He’d really,  _ really  _ like to see Akechi cum untouched, but with how close Akira is he knows that’s unlikely to happen. So he takes Akechi’s cock, pumping him hard as Akechi whines, wrapping his legs around him.

“I’m close,” Akechi confesses, moving his hips in time with Akira’s own. “Akira, please, just -- just cum inside me, okay? I want you to cum inside me.”

“So am I, not too much longer. I will, I will, I can’t wait to feel the inside of you when you finish.” he gasps, his hips snapping forward and searching for Akechi’s prostate again; which he finds, judging by Akechi’s reaction.

“I’m -- I’m coming -- Akira --” and that’s all Akechi sputters out before he cries out, streaking his stomach with his cum. The sight of it, and how hot and tight Akechi now is around his cock, tips him over the edge.

“ _ Goro _ .” he groans lowly, trying to be a bit less loud about it but barely managing. It can’t be helped -- that was the best orgasm he’d ever had.

Inside of his enemy, no less.

The quip from the back of his mind drags him back to the reality of things even in what should have been a fuzzy afterglow, but he’s too spent to really think about it, lazily pulling out of Akechi and collapsing next to him on the bed -- wait, he needs to untie Akechi.

He slowly lifts himself back up and maneuvers Akechi until his back is facing him, freeing his hands with a few pulls.  _ He has a nice ass, _ he dully notes before flopping back onto the bed, at least managing to pull his boxers back on. 

“God,” he runs his hand (the one that hadn’t been on Akechi’s dick) through his hair, the evening air helping to cool his body. “Was that good?”

“It was,” Akechi agrees, and even in Akira’s daze he can see the gears turning in his head. “But I hardly think my presence was a quiet one. Perhaps your investigation went awry?” he asks, having the gall to be cheeky.

“Oh, be quiet.” he grumbles, elbowing him. His body feels heavy, and just when he thinks he’s about to drift off, Akechi’s voice and the severity of it shake him out of it.

“I especially liked it when you put a knife to my neck.” Akechi comments, a mocking smile on his face. Akira briefly thought it might have been jest, but the tone of his voice was far too sinister. 

“I ---” Akira stammered, feeling smaller underneath the scrutiny of Akechi’s glare. “You didn’t tell me to stop.” he protests weakly, but he’s already growing guilty. His intentions hadn’t been truly malicious; he’d thought Akechi would like it, and he’d seemed completely unbothered by it when it was happening, so why…?

“ _ You _ were the one taking the lead, not me. I was gone and all I knew was what I wanted. What if your hand had slipped? You risked my life just so you could feel good about yourself, Kurusu.”

Akira didn’t know what to respond, how to justify himself. Even if he found the words, Akechi -- who was already pulling his clothes back on -- would probably find better ones to cut him down with. 

 

“Well, if  _ that’s _ all you wanted,” Akechi continues, the implication stinging. “I’ll be leaving.”

He takes a few steps towards the start of the stairs before Akira rushes toward him, grabbing his hand.

“Wait,” Akira blurts hastily. “I’m sorry, just, sit down for a moment. Let me properly apologize.”

Akechi looks disbelieving, but, to Akira’s surprise, he obliges. Akira feels a bit stupid without a shirt and pants, so he takes care of that first before sitting beside him. 

“You’re right,” Akira stares at his hands, trying to formulate a decent response before willing himself to meet Akechi’s eyes. “I .. shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have jumped you; I … didn’t really plan this myself but that doesn’t make it right. I should’ve just asked you outright and asked what you’d wanted. I’m sorry. But,” Akira sucks in a breath. “I’m glad you told me this.”

Akechi watches him. “You … are?”

“I am. I care about you; and if I do something that bothers you, I want to know about it. You don’t have to forgive me, but --”

Akechi lifts a hand. “Akira,” he laughs, showing some of his scarce genuineness. “I wouldn’t say I overreacted, but maybe I was a little too quick to judge. But yes,” he nods. “I’m not .. opposed to doing this again, and I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy myself -- I did give you consent -- but please do talk to me if you want something like this. I liked the knife in the heat of the moment, but I could only really think about what could have happened once my head was clear,” Akechi looks to the wall. “Thank you for listening to me.” he adds, a little more quietly.

Akira smiles slightly before a yawn overtakes him. 

“Tired?”

“Aren’t you?” Akira shakes his head, burrowing into his blankets. “Are you going to stay the night, or…?”

Akechi looks like he very briefly considers it, but declines. “As nice as that sounds, I have work tomorrow and it’s much farther from your place than it is to mine. Maybe some other time.”

Akira isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth or if he just wants to keep  _ some _ distance between them, but he doesn’t press. So, he walks him to the door, glad that Sojiro had left by the time he’d invited Akechi up; the noises were something he could go without explaining to Sojiro. 

“Stay safe, okay?” Akira’s free hand lingers at his shoulder, using the other to hold the door open for him. “Let me know when you’re free again. I want to talk to you in person -- I don’t have any ulterior motives.” he adds hastily.

“I’ll see.” Akechi hums, stepping out the door, but not before Akira pecks his cheek. Even in the light of the night, Akechi’s face looks even pinker than it had been when they were in bed. 

“Talk to you later.” he smiles as Akechi only glances away in response. 

Akira closes the door once Akechi takes a turn down the sidewalk, staggering upstairs and sinking into his bed, trying to stomach the mess he had walked right into, the emotions that had all but ambushed him. So much had happened in a night, and Akira’s body is spent.

He’d been ready for Akechi to outright hate him after his misstep, but that, somehow, hadn’t happened. Akira had learned, they had talked, and came to an agreement. It makes him wonder, then, if there’s still hope to reach out to Akechi. He’s hesitantly optimistic; that’s why he wanted to see Akechi in private again, to try and find out why he was doing what he was. 

He’s anxious, given his tendency toward bad luck, but he did want to help Akechi. In spite of everything, he was a friend -- more than that now, he supposed -- and if he was in some danger, he wanted to help him.

There’s a slew of bad outcomes, but there’s also hope, and that’s all Akira really needs to move forward.

  
  



End file.
